


Growth in Darkness

by TheAutumnLeaves



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Darth Vader Redemption, Death Positivity, Family Reunions, Grief/Mourning, Redemption, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 07:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17402459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAutumnLeaves/pseuds/TheAutumnLeaves
Summary: When the war with the Empire takes Luke to Naboo, he seeks out his mother's grave as somewhere to try to synthesize the revelation of his father's identity.





	Growth in Darkness

Headcanons: Autistic Force sensitives, trans Luke/Skywalker twins  
Trigger Warnings: Contemplation of death

 

It was quiet in his mother’s tomb. Quiet and cool, the thick berm of the garden silencing the last of the quiet sounds of outside. He had brought her flowers, a bunch that he had picked on his walk through the silent, empty no-man’s land of fields between the holed-up Rebel forces, and the Imperials. There had been a certain peace to it, even with the threat of death constant at his back, as he had picked resolute flowers out of craters and scars in the earth.  
He knelt, now, still holding the bouquet in his arms, quiet as well, if not as peaceful.  
The tomb had little smell, no hint of her body decomposing in the smooth casket at his side. It was the first time in quite some time that there hadn’t been the smell of death in his nose, and he supposed that his mother’s body was long reduced to nothing but bone in her final resting place.  
He had thought he would speak to her, to try to synthesize the revelation of his parentage by discussing with the one he could trust to listen, but as he had descended the steps, he had felt the twenty-year-old silence rise to meet him and felt a sense of awe that he could not dismiss with his petty worries.  
Just sitting with her helped. The knowledge of his father’s identity had at least brought him this, this silent, impassive space where there were no worries to attend to, the only other long past saving.  
Slowly, the weight of the bouquet, of his own heavy head overwhelmed him, and he slipped down against the cool stone that covered his mother, closing his eyes. It was dark; he had turned off his glowrod to allow the silence to absorb him fully, and his exhaustion pulled at his bones, begging him to just sleep.  
When Vader’s slow, deep breaths pierced the silence, Luke tensed for a moment, gripping the stems of the wildflowers before exhaling silently. There was no malice in his father’s presence, no threat.  
Instead of reacting, he lay in the shadow of his mother’s casket, and listened to the heavy footsteps on the stone steps. Nothing could pierce this silence, as old as himself, no violence could cut through its gentle coolth, he had nothing to fear, only another mourner, as lost as himself.  
The thoughts were not fully his own, he thought, unconcerned. They felt as if they had come to him partly from the casket, from his long dead mother. There was a trace of silent love, something that came from his father’s reverence as his footsteps slowed still farther with the final step to the burial chamber, and something that came from the still-cool stone at his cheek, and something that sat in silent certainty as he remained still.   
He felt as if he was witnessing something his senses couldn’t perceive. He felt his father’s footsteps deep in his soul, knew without seeing that he had reached out, and put a heavy hand on the casket, that he hadn’t seen Luke yet. It was the Force, but it was more than the Force, and it was sweeter than the Force, and yet also stiller, and emptier in its peace. There wasn’t the quiet franticness of a galaxy’s worth of life, only the heavy silence of the tomb, the scent of young moss and old air. And through it all, his father’s steady breath, a reminder of life in it all.  
For a long, long time, Vader stood behind Luke, his hand and focus rested on the casket, unaware of his son’s presence.  
When the realization dawned, Luke felt Vader’s breath in his own lungs, slower, as if to say “oh”. For a moment, he thought his father would approach him, and he lay unmoving, allowing it.  
Vader did not approach. Instead, he stepped back from the casket, and was merely silent again, his breath fading away to nothing, another facet of the peace of the tomb.  
After a time that felt like hours but could have been minutes or days, Vader moved again, and this time, he did approach Luke. Still, Luke did not start, did not draw away, did not allow any reaction to show.  
Slowly, the dark fabric of his father’s cape was lowered over him, and Luke realized suddenly that his father might have thought him to be asleep in the cool silence. He did nothing to dispel the notion, remaining still until his father’s footsteps had nearly reached the door, and he finally found words.  
“Don’t go.”  
Vader turned back to him, and Luke felt an aching sadness from him at the sight of his son, back still to him, unmoving in the shadow of a casket.  
Slowly, the heavy steps returned to him, and Luke still lay, still did not turn to see his father. Instead, it was Vader who moved, after a time, to kneel, then clumsily sit, at his son’s side. Neither spoke, the depth of the silence, the weight of words spoken into it overcoming them. Again, it was Vader who moved, reaching out cautiously to touch Luke’s shoulder, and when Luke failed to flinch, to draw him against his chest, surrounding him with heavy arms, carefully rearranging the cape so it covered him more fully.  
There were words he wanted to say, Luke knew. Something Darth Vader wished to communicate, to explain to him, but something that was unsayable, inexpressible.  
He shook his head slowly, leaning against his father’s chest, his gaze still on the mismatched bunch of flowers. He wouldn’t give in, he would never allow Vader to turn him, but here, they were just two mourners, silently honouring a woman who had loved them, and it wasn’t wrong to accept what sparse comfort his father could offer.  
He had never known before if his parents had loved one another, but now he was certain. There had been no mention of his father or himself on her plaque, only a vague mention of an unborn child, without speculation on the father’s identity, but the fact that his father had come to see her told him all he needed to know. He had been loved, and his mother had been loved, and there had been something there once, some desire for a family.  
“I am sorry,” Vader said, at long last.  
Luke shook his head again, pressing his cheek to Vader’s cool chest plate. He didn’t want an apology to be the thing that hung in the air, in the soothing, heavy silence of his mother’s tomb.  
“I love you.”  
He had meant to add to that, to qualify it with the fact that he hated what his father had done to the galaxy, but those words alone had taken everything out of him. He had no strength to speak farther, to try to lift the silence so that the galaxy in all its complexity could come rushing back in.  
To his relief, Vader did not answer, except to tighten his arms around Luke, cradling his head closer to himself. The Sith seemed as subdued by the darkness as he was, as unwilling to let their conflict into the safety of the tomb.  
Slowly, Luke relaxed into his father’s arms, feeling his father’s support as he slumped, leaning against Vader in the silence. He remembered this sensation from another time, from when he had been small and gone to his aunt to be comforted after nightmares.  
This felt oddly similar, he thought, briefly taking control of his limbs again as his father adjusted his grip. The environment was different, and the reason he was being held was different… he couldn’t bring himself to look back at Vader still, but he felt profoundly safe. Despite all its differences, this had similarities, too. It was dark, and quiet, and felt like an unfamiliar world, where he knew nothing of his surroundings, and unimaginable monsters could wait outside of the protection of his guardian.  
Slowly, he began to recognize another dimension of Vader’s closeness, as he felt the strange brush of the Sith’s presence against his own. At Bespin, he had furiously denied it, but now it touched him gently, questioning rather than demanding, gentle rather than violent, and he cautiously allowed it.  
His eyes fell closed as he felt himself sink deeper into the silence of the tomb. He was not choosing to sink, exactly, but neither was he being pushed. It was merely drawing him onward, his father’s presence still wrapped around him, accompanying him.  
Space lost all meaning, time trickling away to nothingness, everything just gentle pressure, the promise that there was something there, that there was everything there. He didn’t think that it moved so much as slowly changing, becoming denser, more perfectly safe.  
His father’s presence was no more, and his mother’s echo was forgotten too. He was alone, but completely protected, too, one with the galaxy.  
Maybe this is what it is to feel the Force, he thought, but the thought was lost immediately, silently absorbed into the safe darkness.  
Again, his mind tried to question if he had ever truly connected with the Force, and again the thoughts were soaked away.

~

“Youngling.”  
Luke blinked, the galaxy twisting around him, before resolving itself back to the tomb. He had been laid out on his back, covered again with Vader’s cloak, and the Sith was standing over him. Slowly, sensation returned to Luke, and he blinked, pushing himself up. He could feel his father’s anxiousness, the fact he’d been pacing, and other things, darker, older, and more…  
“Did you read my mind?” he asked, suddenly on edge.  
It had felt comfortable and safe, but he wouldn’t put it past Vader for that to have been cover, and if he could see past Vader’s shields with no training… he could only imagine what his father might have seen.  
Vader gave a dark chuckle, and for a split second, Luke’s blood ran cold before he realized that it had only been the sound of Vader’s laugh that had been ominous, not his presence. “I did not. You merely sank into a deep trance, without the proper training.”  
“Oh,” Luke said, pressing his face into his hands for a moment, trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. “Cause I think I might’ve read yours. A little bit.”  
Vader made another sound, and Luke wondered briefly if he should have admitted to that, before he felt his father’s hands under his arms, lifting him to his feet.  
“Hey!”  
“I had realized that was a possibility,” Vader said, turning Luke towards himself, and looking at him appraisingly before brushing some dust out of his hair. “But had I left, you may have been unable to come back.”  
“Oh,” Luke sighed, holding his arms out at last, asking for another hug, one he could face this time, one where he trusted his father enough to look at him. He felt naked, vulnerable without his father’s arms around him, with the threat that hung in the air that he might never feel them again.  
For too long, Vader only looked at him, and Luke began to fold his arms to his chest, unsure why he’d even hoped, now, when Vader leaned forwards, embracing him again.  
“I am glad,” Vader said slowly, “That you came to visit.”  
His hand was in Luke’s hair again, slowly stroking his head.  
“I was worried her memory would be…” he hesitated, gently pulling Luke away from his chest. “That it would be lost to you.”  
“I was able to figure it out,” Luke mumbled, pressing his face into Vader’s palm. “There were documents I found… Mon took her best guesses, and I just sorta…” he snickered, laughing at himself for doing what he had always dreamed of doing, “Followed leads, and got to the bottom of things.”  
“She would be proud,” Vader said. “Of that, and everything else you’ve done.”  
Luke nodded, smiled shyly, folding his hands together slowly. “I… I know. Some of our leaders were able to tell me about her. Apparently, they used to be friends.”  
He smiled at Vader, the thought of accusing him of betrayal not even crossing his mind. The thought of Vader’s political choices was far away, unimportant here. Right now, he was just glad that he knew people who had known his mother, who could fill him in as long as his father was absent.  
“I missed her smile.”  
His father brushed his palm against Luke’s cheek, before lifting him up onto the casket, and turning away again, resuming pacing.  
Uncertain, Luke pulled his feet up onto the stone lid, wrapping his arms around them. It felt wrong to sit on his mother’s casket, but at the same time, if his father had placed him here, then likely…  
“She would have wanted to support you,” Vader said, and Luke could sense an echo of dry wit, hollow with the circumstances that allowed the joke. At the end of his next pace, Vader stopped, his head bowed, and back to Luke. “You look so much like her.”  
Luke looked back to the intricate carving above the casket, a woman not much older than himself, smiling back at him. She was beautiful, her smile seemed so genuine that even etched in stone, he felt as if she could see into his heart.  
“I don’t see it,” he admitted, looking back to Vader.  
“Not physically, perhaps,” Vader said. “I have… I have lost the ability to separate the Force from my senses. There is little left of them, anymore. I could not say for certain what either of you look like.”  
“Father?” Luke asked, carefully slipping down, and following after his father. He realized that he didn’t know where the flowers he had brought had gone when he had fallen asleep, and as he touched Vader’s shoulder, he couldn’t help but glance back to find them laying against the casket.  
“It is all I deserve,” Vader said, looking down at him, a ripple of humour permeating the Force for a brief moment. At any other time, Luke would not have recognized that it was not natural. “I was created to be this.”  
Luke shook his head, wanting to refute the resigned way his father viewed his life. He didn’t know his father, and what he did know was that there had been a prophesy that Anakin Skywalker had been created by the will of the Force, with the express purpose of affecting the balance of the galaxy.  
“What was I created to be, then?” he asked uncertainly.  
Vader turned sharply back to him. “Nothing. You were not created-,”  
If Luke hadn’t known better, he would have said he was stammering.  
“You were created to be my son,” Vader said, gripping Luke’s shoulders. “And hers.”  
“And what about your mom?” Luke asked, “Didn’t she want you, just for being her son?”  
Vader stilled for a moment. “You know she did not have that luxury.”  
Right. Luke thought, She was a slave.  
“I bet she did love you,” he said, offering his hands to his father. “I love you.”  
“I failed her,” Vader answered, his fingertips just briefly brushing Luke’s. “As I failed your mother. And you.”  
“It doesn’t have to be a failure yet,” Luke protested. It felt strange to say that, as it felt strange to try to reassure Vader. “You’re not gone.”  
“But she is,” Vader said. He looked down at the casket again, stepping slightly away from Luke until his dark fingertips brushed the white marble. “She was the one of us who could ever have deserved you. She let me into her world, and I destroyed it.”  
“She’s gone,” Luke admitted quietly, following his father. “But I’m not. I… I want to let you into my world.”  
Vader snorted. “Your world would not have me.”  
Luke shrugged. “They might. Isn’t it worth a try?”  
“If it were only me that could be hurt, yes. But your friends,” Vader stepped nearer to him, and Luke realized anew how tall his father was. “Your family, you. I might hurt them.”  
Luke swallowed, and straightened his spine. “I wouldn’t let you.”  
“You believe you could stop me?” Vader asked, incredulous. “You are nothing but a child, and I have become an instrument of war.”  
“I could stop you,” Luke repeated, taking his father’s hands and squeezing. He wasn’t sure how he could stop Vader, exactly, but he knew that he could, and he knew that he would, before Vader could do any real damage.  
“You’re a child,” Vader repeated, and he stroked Luke’s hair again, gently possessive.  
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” Luke said steadily.  
“I already have,” Vader lamented, covering more of Luke’s face with his hand.  
“And you won’t do it again,” Luke said firmly, exhaling slowly, pressing his face into Vader’s hand in return, and pressing his great certainty to the Force, so Vader could find it, and see what he meant. “I know you won’t.”


End file.
